What They Took From Me
by The Lilac Elf of Lothlorien
Summary: Harry, Ron, and Hermione are attacked by Death Eaters over the summer after 'GoF' and each has something taken away from them. As they start their 5th year, they find an unexpected ally who knows plenty about the curse used on them.
1. Chapter 1

AUTHOR'S NOTES: So my challenge this time around was actually writing Delores Umbridge as... nice. Okay, not 'nice' nice, but les, um... bitchy. Helpful, even. By the way, if anyone knows how to stop the rampant growth of plot bunnies, please share.

STORY SUMMARY: Hermione, Ron, and Harry have all had things taken away from them. But an unexpected ally comes around to try and give the trio some needed answers.

* * *

HARRY POTTER: What They Took From Me

_Lodge Pole, Montana—United States_

The last time Harry Potter saw anything, it was a warm, sunny day in July.

It was 2 weeks before his birthday and just before 9 in the morning, he pulled on his favorite t-shirt and shorts, laced up his sneakers, and went out for a run, leaving a note for his godparents about when he'd left, about what time he'd be back, and the route he was taking.

Once outside, Harry took a deep calming breath and started off at a quick jog until he got to the entrance of the subdivision where he broke into a full run.

Born with a severe deformity of his left leg resulting in an amputation above the knee, Harry had grown up using a prosthetic and at almost 15 years old, putting on the device was as normal as pulling on a pair of socks.

When he was 3 years old and was learning to walk with his first prosthetic, his godfather, Sirius Black, had never let him give up, no matter how many times the toddler fell.

By the time he was 8, Harry was as mobile as any normal child, thanks to the magically designed prosthetic that not only read the signals from the nerves in what was left of Harry's leg, but also moved like a normal limb.

Harry spent his childhood playing soccer with a local youth team and had helped win a state championship when he was 10.

When Harry had begun attending Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, he found a new athletic prowess in playing quidditch—a game played while flying about on brooms.

Still, every summer, Harry would play soccer or basketball with the neighborhood kids at the middle school or the athletic center.

Or he'd go for a run. Running was his favorite these days. There was something soothing about the sound of his shoes rhythmically hitting the pavement and listening to his breathing as he headed down the street, letting all other thoughts fade from his mind.

And after the debacle at the end of the Triwizard Tournament only a month and a half ago, that feeling was exactly what Harry needed. He needed a break from the nightmares of Voldemort's return and Cedric Diggory's murder.

Slowing to a stop at an intersection, Harry jogged in place for a second before stopping completely, breathing hard. His lungs ached a bit from the exertion of the 4 mile run, but for Harry it was a good pain. It reminded him that he was still alive and as he stretched out in preparation for the journey home, he stopped, looking around as something had caught his eye.

Something that seemed amiss.

Before he could find the problem, Harry felt some sort of spell hit him in the face. He dropped to his knees, crying out in agony as it felt like someone had ripped his eyes right out of the sockets.

Tearing off his glasses and letting them fall to the ground, Harry blinked, turning his head this way and that, tears of pain streaming down his face.

"Oh, my God, son! What happened?" A woman said, as she put a hand on Harry's back. "Look at me, dear. What…? Oh, Dear Lord…"

Harry wasn't sure what had happened to render the woman speechless, but he soon felt more hands help him up. Someone pressed his glasses into his hand while another pair of hands guided him to a vehicle, helping him inside. "I can't see. I can't see," Harry just said over and over, as the stranger drove. "Why can't I see?

"I know, son," the man said, his voice strange. "I can't tell you what happened. But I'm going to help you. I know a friend at the local hospital."

Feeling for the stranger's arm, Harry took a moment before he managed to thank him.

* * *

The emergency room at Lodge Memorial Hospital was at a steady trickle when Nicholas Charles walked in, guiding the teenager towards the waiting room check in. "I've got a young man here who needs immediate assistance," Nicholas said, nodding in his companion's direction.

When the nurse looked at Harry, she couldn't help letting out a gasp of horror. "Uh… Uh, exam room 3. Follow me."

Going to the teenager, Nurse Connie Raymond gently took the young man's elbow and led him to the exam room and closed the door before also closing the shades.

"What's wrong?" the boy asked, sounding more and more frantic Connie helped him up on the exam bed. "What's wrong with my eyes? Why can't I see?"

"What's your name, son?" Nicholas asked, gently. "Is there someone I can call for you?"

"Harry… Harry Potter." Harry rattled off his phone number and Nicholas went off to use the pay phone while Connie did an examination of Harry's face. "Just tell me what's wrong with me, please," Harry said, urgently.

Connie pulled over a stool and took a deep breath before she replied, "Harry, your eyes…"

"Yes?" Harry, said, his gut clenching in fear.

"Your eyes are gone," Connie said, aghast.

"What…? 'Gone'? What are you talking about?" Harry said, reaching up a hand to his face. He could feel some scarring on his cheeks—Strange… that hadn't been there earlier—and as he felt the corner of his eye, he froze when his fingers touched the empty socket. "Oh, God…."

Connie pulled Harry's hand away, gently, and said, "I'm going to get you admitted and then have a doctor better examine your… examine you."

Harry nodded and he heard the door open and close. His eyes were gone. Slowly, he raised a hand and tentatively probed the empty socket where his left eye had been.

"This is… Oh, no," he muttered, getting off the exam bad and hastily feeling about for a trash can as his stomach roiled. Feeling the edge of a sink, he promptly threw up, sobbing as he tried to think of any way that this was just a horrible dream. After rinsing out his mouth, Harry heard the door open again and he heard an older man say, "Harry? I'm Dr. Landry."

Harry started back towards the exam bed, but his prosthetic leg caught the leg of the stool and he feel to the floor, crying again as he slowly picked himself up.

Landry righted the stool and guided Harry around so he was sitting on it before carefully examining the teenager's empty orbital sockets. "And you have no idea what happened?" Landry asked, his own eyes widening in surprise as he concluded his examination.

Harry shook his head. "One second I could see, the next…" He hated lying to the doctor because in truth he knew _exactly_ what had happened. The spell that had hit him in the face had to have been a modified vanishing spell of some sort that had removed his eyes.

Although Landry was certain that there was something the teenager wasn't saying, he put a comforting hand on the teenager's shoulder. "Okay, Harry. I'm going to send you upstairs and we're going to get you settled in the pediatric wing. Then, when your family gets here, we can discuss orbital implant surgery so it'll be easier to fit you for ocular prostheses."

"Harry's godparents should be here in about 10 minutes," Connie reported as she came in pushing an empty wheelchair. "I'll take you upstairs, Harry."

Harry stood and felt for the wheelchair, sitting down before Connie wheeled him out of the room and down the hall towards the elevators.

Trying to make conversation, Connie asked, "When did you lose your leg?"

"When I was a baby," Harry replied, numbly. "It, uh… was a limb deformity. I've had the prosthetic pretty much my whole life." Hearing the elevator 'ding', he waited until the nurse had pushed him inside and the door had closed behind them before asking, "Have you ever seen someone who lost both eyes before?"

Connie shook her head, forgetting for a brief moment that her patient couldn't see her. "Not both at the same time," she replied. _"And never where the extraction was so thorough,"_ she thought to herself.

* * *

When Sirius and Alexis Black got to Harry's room, they were shocked by their godson's appearance.

Harry's eyes were missing completely and then there was the prominent scarring on his face that made both adults cringe in horror.

Alexis—Lex to her friends and family—quickly went to sit on the bed on Harry's left side, taking his hand as she did so. "Harry, we're here, honey. Sirius and I are both here."

When he heard his godfather close the door, Harry instantly tried to explain what had happened—the beginning of the day, his run, the strange wizard who had fired the spell… and finding out that his eyes had been removed.

"Dr. Landry told us about… about that," Sirius said, trying not to be freaked out as he was having a hard time tearing his gaze away from Harry's face. "And since you haven't eaten yet, he wants to get you into surgery as soon as possible."

"After the surgeon gets a look at the extent of the damage," Lex added, trying to focus on the medical aspects. "—he's going to put orbital implants in to the empty sockets. You… you won't look as bad afterwards."

Harry nodded, words failing him at the moment. Hearing the door open again and the sound of a gurney wheeling across the floor, he deduced that he was about whisked away to the operating room.

"If you want, you can remove the prosthetic leg," the orderly said, kindly as Harry threw the blankets back and prepared to move from his hospital bed.

"Oh, yeah," Harry mumbled, distractedly, as he felt for the release mechanism on the prosthetic.. Taking the device off as well as the sock and sheath, he said, quietly, "Sometimes I forget I'm wearing it."

Once Harry was settled on the gurney, the orderly pushed him down the hall, heading for the surgical floor, with Sirius and Lex following behind.

In the waiting room, Lex sat down, burrowing her face in her hands as she tried to think of a way this could get any worse.

"It can't," Sirius said, sitting down as well, leaning back in his chair.

"It can't what?" Lex inquired, looking at her husband.

Sirius took her hand, giving her warm look. "It can't get any worse. We'll let the muggle doctors do their thing, and then as soon as we can get Harry out of here, we'll take him to Xavier Magical Medical Center and you get him fitted with the best prosthetic eyes you can possibly come up with."

Lex shook her head, pulling her hand from Sirius's and standing up, pacing the floor. "Sirius, R&D on magical medical devices is what I do, yes. But Dr. Landry said that Harry's optic nerves were completely gone. Without the nerves," she explained, "Even the best magical prosthetic eyes won't help Harry see again because there's no way for the spells on the prostheses to transmit signals to the brain."

The horrible truth that Sirius had been trying to avoid thinking about ever since the phone call earlier loomed and his mouth went dry as he realized what Lex was saying. "You're saying…"

"Harry's blind," Lex choked out, sitting down again. "And the worst part is… I can't do a damn thing about it." Hugging Sirius tightly, she started crying. And when she felt a slight wetness on her shoulder, she knew Sirius was crying as well.

Pulling away and sitting down again, Sirius tried to get himself composed as he asked, "So what… What now? I-I mean, if magic can't help Harry…? A-And that orbital implant thing… What's that about?"

"In Harry's case?" Lex said with a shrug. "Mostly to protect from infection. Without the implant—or a magical prosthetic—it would be easy for dust, pollen… animal hair, what have you to get in and cause irritation or massive infections in the soft tissue or even in the orbital bones. And in severe cases, the infection can become serious enough as to require removal of bone and muscle."

Sitting up a bit straighter, Sirius's eyes widened in horror. "So what can we do to keep that from happening to Harry?"

Thinking on her godson's situation, Lex shrugged again. "There's not much more we can do other than what the doctors are doing," she concluded, simply. "We'll need to make sure Harry's sockets are kept clean and protected—he'll have to have his eyes covered for at least two to four days after surgery."

"But when we can get Harry to XMMC, maybe someone—or even you—can try regrowing his eyes, right?" Sirius asked, hopefully.

After a deep breath, Lex nodded, slowly. "It's worth a shot, of course," she said, turning to her husband. "But, honey… the scarring on Harry's face…? That says dark magic to me. And dark spells can sometimes be impossible to reverse. And the idea of giving Harry hope like that and it doesn't work…?"

"You're right," Sirius conceded, taking his wife's hand. After a long silence, he said, "We have to tell the Weasleys… and Hermione Granger."

"And Remus," Lex added, thinking of Sirius's best friend.

"Don't forget Dumbledore," Sirius threw in. "And Harry's going to need an occupational therapist and someone to help him learn Braille…"

"I've got contacts at the medical center," Lex reminded him, gently. "I'll take care of that." Hearing her pager beep, she let out a dejected sigh as she checked the number. "Give me a minute, sweetie. I've got to take this."

Leaning his head back as his wife went to find a phone, Sirius closed his eyes and let his thoughts wander.

He and Lex had been on their honeymoon when they'd received word about Voldemort murdering James and Lily and they'd gone back to England straight away, imploring Dumbledore to let them take care of Harry.

Although Dumbledore had been reluctant to do so—preferring to give Harry to his biological aunt and uncle so as to forge a blood protection—the choice had been taken out of his hands when Death Eaters had attacked the Dursleys in a proactive maneuver.

With Vernon and Petunia Dursley dead and their son, Dudley, in a trauma-related catatonic state and sent to live in a mental hospital, Sirius and Lex spared no time formally adopting Harry and using every protective spell they knew of to keep Harry safe. They'd even moved from England to the United States where Lex had started medical school in the hopes of becoming a doctor that specialized in magical _and_ medical treatment for patients.

Opening his eyes again and standing up, stretching as he did so, Sirius saw Lex come back into the waiting room looking shaken. "What is it? What happened?"

Lex sat down, looking up at Sirius with a look of sorrowful regret. "That was Waldenmeyer Memorial Hospital in London," Lex reported. "Molly Weasley asked them to contact me."

"Is it Harry's friends?" Sirius implored, urgently. "What happened? Are they alright?"

Lex shook her head. "Ron and Hermione were attacked."

"Oh, God…" Sirius breathed, aghast, thinking of Harry's two best friends. "How…? How bad?"

"Ron lost his arm at the shoulder," Lex replied. "His left arm, so that's… that's something. But Hermione…"

Knowing that Harry harbored a massive crush on the bookworm, Sirius dreaded to hear what kind of tragedy had befallen the young woman. "And Hermione?"

Leaning back in her own chair, Lex stared straight ahead as she said, "Massive head trauma. She was attacked before Ron—two weeks ago, actually—and she just woke up from being in a coma." After taking a moment, she went on. "The parts of Hermione's brain that help visually process language show significant damage." Turning to Sirius, she simplified, "Hermione can't read. Her ability to recognize written words is… is gone." Looking Sirius in the eye, Lex frowned. "I want to find whoever did this and throw them in the darkest cell in Azkaban to rot."

Sirius had to hold back his anger as he nodded in agreement.

* * *

The first thing that registered in Harry's mind as he woke up was a steady beeping sound.

Groaning slightly as he tried to figure out his surroundings, he couldn't understand, at first, why he couldn't see. But as he slowly sat up, he remembered being out for a run and some sort of spell hitting him in the face.

Reaching up a hand to his face, Harry felt a swath of bandages across his eyes. For a moment, he allowed himself to hope that maybe he'd just dreamt that someone had removed his eyes. But the memory of touching his empty eye socket was permanently ingrained in his mind and he lay back down, wondering what would happen to him now.

"Harry, sweetie?"

Hearing his godmother's voice, Harry carefully sat up again, although this time the action was accompanied by a pounding headache right behind… Well, behind where his eyes _used to_ be.

Feeling the bed adjust so the back was somewhat elevated, Harry slowly lay back, feeling his headache recede for a brief moment. "I can't see…" Harry said, quietly.

"I know, sweetheart," Lex said as she sat on the bed where Harry's left leg would have been. "Do you want to hear about your surgery?" If Harry wasn't ready to hear about the surgeon's report, she wasn't going to go into detail. But if he did want to know…

"My eyes are gone," Harry said, dejectedly. "What else matters?" Trying to pluck himself up, he felt for the bed adjust and when he was sitting up a bit more, he asked, "What about prosthetics?"

"Uh… we'll talk about that later," Lex said as she stood up. "Harry, you remember Dr. Landry?"

Harry help up a hand and gave a weak wave. "Hi."

Landry took up the spot on Harry's bed that Lex had vacated and asked, "How are you feeling? Any pain in the area around the orbital sockets? Headache?"

"Headache," Harry nodded.

"I'll get you something for the pain," Landry promised as he stood up. After a moment, he added, "Harry, I don't know what happened to you, but if there's anything I can do, just page me."

Once Lex and Harry were alone and the door was closed, Lex took up her seat again and said, "Harry, your optic nerves were completely removed along with your eyes. The surgeon also had to remove what remained of the muscles that control eye movement."

Scoffing, Harry replied, "So I take it magical replacements are off the table?"

"I'm afraid so," Lex sighed, wishing she had better news. "I spoke with Chester Avery—one of the occupational therapists at Xavier Medical Center—and he's going to start working with you on getting around."

Harry's mouth went dry as he thought about going back to Hogwarts. Would he even be allowed back if he couldn't see? "And, uh… wh-what about school?" he finally muttered,

"Dumbledore is working on that," Lex explained, hesitating as she tried to think of the best way to tell Harry about his friends. "You and Hermione are both going to need help this year."

"What happened to Hermione?" Harry asked, frantically, looking like he was about to bolt from the bed.

"Harry, just settle down," Lex replied, sternly, not going on until Harry had laid back in bed. "Hermione was attacked. Ron, too. He lost his arm but I'll have him fitted with the best prosthetic possible."

"What happened to Hermione?" Harry repeated, dread building up inside him as he sat up straight.

* * *

_Waldenmeyer Memorial Hospital_

_London, England_

_One Month Later_

Walking into her daughter's room, Meredith Granger immediately ducked as a thick, hardcover book went flying over her head, bouncing off the wall with a 'thud'.

"It's all bloody GIBBERISH!"

"Hermione, sweetheart," Meredith said, soothingly as she sat by her daughter's hospital bed. "You should be resting."

"'Resting'?" Hermione snapped, angrily. "I should be _resting_? I should be working on my summer assignments! I should be _reading_! I should be doing ANYTHING but trying to make sense of this… this… TWADDLE!" Grabbing the stack of scribbled on papers where she'd tried to write the simplest words, she crumpled them up, hurling each at the wall as hard as she could with each word. "I… can't… read! I… can't… _write_! It… all… means… _NOTHING_!"

Hermione let out an anguished howl of pain and anger before sobbing uncontrollably. Ever since waking up from her coma, Hermione had tried staring at the books her parents had brought by, hoping to push her brain into action once more. But the harder she tried, the more frustrated she became.

Ever since she was a small child, Hermione had relished in the written word. She'd consumed books as fast as possible, rereading her favorites over and over again. She'd always loved studying and learning new things. When she was happy, she'd go back to her favorite novels, feeling as welcomed back into the imaginary worlds of Narnia, Middle Earth, and Discworld as she was in the wizarding world.

When she was sad, the comfort of culinary mysteries was a soothing as a cup of hot chocolate.

And when she was angry or frustrated, she threw herself into nonfiction, picking the most complicated subjects imaginable, as her desire to understand superseded her emotions.

But now Hermione felt cut off from the world of books and written text. She felt like she was lost in a foreign land without a translator and it was making her crazy.

'Resting', her mother had said, knowing full-well that reading was how her daughter did so.

Even when she'd been sick with chicken pox, Hermione had felt better when she'd had her books for company.

All this was why Meredith Granger had not yet told her daughter about Harry Potter and Ron Weasley. It would make Hermione even crazier to know that her friends were hurt and she couldn't research the spells used on them.

When Hermione finally cried herself out, she sniffled and looked at her copy of _'A History of Magic'_ still sitting in the hallway where it had landed.

Catching her daughter's look, Meredith retrieved the heavy book and set it down at the foot of the bed. "Hermione, I would give anything to fix this," she said, sadly. "But this isn't something magic can fix, I'm afraid." Brushing her daughter's frizzy hair away from her face, she added, "You have to give your brain a chance to heal."

"But what if it doesn't?" Hermione replied, quietly, voicing the fear she'd been holding onto for weeks now. "My whole life, books and intelligence is all I've had. If that's gone…"

Sitting up straighter and taking her daughter's hand in a reassuring squeeze, Meredith gave a warm smile. "You are an incredibly smart girl. You're clever, resourceful… And if reading and writing are a problem… you'll improvise."

Her curiosity getting the better of her, Hermione's brow furrowed in confusion. "What are you talking about?"

"Like… audio books," Meredith suggested, brightly. "Self-writing quills. I don't know. Be creative. There's still a load of information locked inside your mind, sweetheart. You just need to take some time and figure out how to use it to overcome your problem."

Feeling somewhat exhausted, Hermione wasn't really in the mood to figure out how to do what her mother recommended. Glancing down at the book by her feet, she reached for it and after a long pause, handed the volume to her mother with a hopeful look. "Could you read it to me, Mum?"

"I would be happy to," Meredith replied, taking the book and turning to a bookmarked section.

* * *

It had been a month since he'd lost his arm, and Ron Weasley still couldn't believe that the limb was gone.

He'd been walking down a street in town with Remus Lupin, heading towards the market to get some things for dinner.

With stories coming in of muggleborns, halfbloods, and muggle supporters being attacked, Molly Weasley had been reluctant to let her son go alone. Lupin—stopping by to share information about Hermione—had volunteered to accompany the young man and the two had set off, discussing everything from Voldemort's return to the werewolf's favorite dishes.

There had been no warning, no shouts of alarm…

One second the pair were walking down the street, talking—the next, a spell hit Ron in the shoulder and by the time Lupin had his wand out, the spellcaster had disappeared.

Sitting in his bedroom, Ron looked at the mess of scars where his arm had been. The scarring resembled a cluster of knives and thinking back to that afternoon, Ron remembered all too vividly the feeling that someone was taking a knife and hacking away at his shoulder.

Hearing someone outside his bedroom door, Ron grabbed his shirt and fumbled with it as he tried to tug it over his head with his remaining arm.

When Fred came into the room alone, Ron looked puzzled since it was rare for just one of his twin brothers to show up. "How are you feeling, Ron?"

Ron shrugged as he adjusted his shirt and stood up. "Fine, I guess," he muttered. Touching where his arm had been, he let out a sigh. "Don't know if I'm ever going to get used to this."

Fred's first instinct was to mention that Harry Potter did just fine with missing his leg, but remembering that Harry'd been missing said limb since he was a baby, Fred let the notion go. "Mum spoke with Harry's godmother," he said instead. "Alexis is working on a prosthetic for you. She's going to be stopping in next week to check the nerves in your shoulder and do the fitting."

Ron seemed surprised at that news. "You're joking," he said, with a slightly accusing tone in his voice.

Fred hastily shook his head, explaining what he'd overheard from his mother's Floo conversation the other day. "Alex said she should be able to rig a prosthetic that will magically read the nerve signals and act like a normal arm. You should be able to hold stuff, lift things… the whole bit."

"And the catch?" Ron wanted to know. None of the magical healers who had treated him had been able to grow his arm back and Alastor Moody had assessed the spell as dark magic of the highest kind—a curse designed to steal whatever body part it was aimed at.

Moody himself had been on the receiving end of the curse in question, admitting that it was the same spell that had taken his leg.

Even though he wanted to keep his little brother's hopes up, Fred also wasn't keen on lying—especially not with something as serious as this. "If the nerves in your shoulder are too damaged, the charms on the prosthetic won't work," Fred replied, letting Ron deduce the rest.

"So, if it works I get my arm back," Ron stated, cautiously optimistic. "But if it doesn't… nothing's really changed."

"Pretty much," Fred said, simply. After a moment, he nodded at the door. "Come on. Mum wants us to help with getting dinner ready. Dumbledore, Moody, Lupin, Snape, and Tonks are going to be here tonight so there's lots to do."

Not sure how much use he would be with one arm, Ron followed his brother downstairs, finding George and Ginny already in the kitchen with their mother.

"Ahh, good, you're here, Ron," Molly said, briskly. "If you would season those roasting chickens and get them in the oven and then start on the sausage and potato casserole?"

Ron couldn't help a small smile as he walked over to the roasting pan which contained 3 roast chickens. Molly Weasley had never been one to baby her children, no matter how sick or injured they were. Once it had been established that Ron's arm couldn't be grown back, Molly had been very firm in telling her youngest son that she still expected him to help out around the house when he got home.

In a way, Ron found the lack of coddling encouraging. No one was going to make him feel like he was useless and couldn't do things just because he was missing his arm. And, to Ron, that made him feel like he had to do his best to overcome the disability thrust upon him.

Although, as Ron used a levitation spell to put the chickens in the oven, he had to admit that he was relying on his wand more than usual.

Using magic to chop the shallots, cooked potatoes, and garlic while he cooked the sausage, Ron wondered how Hermione and Harry were faring.

Alexis had shared what had happened to Harry when Ron was still in the hospital, and Ron had been aghast at what had happened to his best friend. The idea of not just being blind, but having your eyeballs completely removed… Just imagining what Harry's face and empty sockets looked like caused an involuntary shudder.

As Ron continued work on the casserole—a layered mélange of chopped, cooked potatoes, cooked sausage and shallots, and cheese sauce—his mind went to Hermione. He couldn't imagine how she felt, not being able to research the spell used on her.

But thinking again about Harry's situation, Ron straightened up as he had a brilliant idea. Hermione's problem was that she couldn't process _written text_. But what about Braille? If she worked with Harry, then perhaps the two of them could find ways to make their disabilities easier to deal with.

Although, he thought, grimly, that still didn't change the fact that Harry would still have to give up playing Quidditch since he could no longer see.

When the casserole was ready, Ron moved the baking dish aside and started cleaning up his counter area. But as he headed for the rubbish bin, he tripped on a corner of the kitchen rub and pitched forward onto the floor, his arm out to break his fall. As he landed, he gave a cry or pain as he felt something snap in his wrist and thumb.

"Ron!" Molly exclaimed, dashing forward to help her son up. But when she grabbed his hand, Ron cried out again, pulling his injured hand close to his chest.

Fred and George came over, grabbing their brother around the upper chest and pulling him up to his feet before guiding him to a chair. "Steady on, little brother," George said, trying to be cheerful. "You're alright."

"Nothing to worry about," Fred agreed as their mother healed the broken bones with her wand. "See?"

But Ron's hand was still incredibly painful and bending his thumb and wrist made it worse.

Molly just stared for a moment, wishing she could say something helpful but as she looked at her son, she found herself at a loss for words. If Alexis Black couldn't come up with a prosthetic for Ron, this would always be a risk. Ron only had one arm now. If his other arm was injured badly enough, he'd be almost completely helpless.

Pushing her newly developed fears down, Molly bandaged Ron's hand and thumb in a soft cast and gave him a reassuring look. "You'll be just fine in a few days, dear."

Ron nodded, not wanting to start openly crying in front of his mother, brothers, and sister.

* * *

_King's Cross Train Station_

_London, England_

_September 1__st_

Standing on Platform 9 ¾, Hermione couldn't remember being so nervous—not even when she'd first boarded the Hogwarts Express.

Her trunk had just been loaded and she'd said good-bye to her parents, but still, she felt strange going back to school.

Ron's idea some weeks ago was spot on and learning Braille had proven incredibly useful in not only providing a needed distraction, but also as a way for Hermione to start wading back into the books she'd missed so much. After all, some books she already knew word for word, so using them to teach herself Braille had been exceedingly helpful.

Looking about for her friends, Hermione saw the Weasleys standing with Harry and his godparents. Walking over, she waved to catch their attention and as she got closer, she saw Alexis Black making an adjustment on Ron's prosthetic arm and watching as he moved the limb.

Harry, however, was standing off to the side, a pair of wraparound sunglasses on his face. He held his knapsack in one hand and a long, white cane in the other. As Hermione got closer, she called out his name, startling him a bit.

"Hermione, you look great," Ron said as he saw her come over. Raising the prosthetic, he grinned and gave a wave of the metal and plastic hand. "What do you think?"

"I'm happy for you, Ron," Hermione replied, honestly as they started to board the train, Harry bringing up the rear after a brief whispered conversation with Sirius and Alexis.

Once the trio found an empty compartment and settled in, Ron and Hermione exchanged a look, neither wanting to ask Harry how he was doing… or about the loss of his eyes.

"I'm glad Lex was able to get you the prosthetic, Ron," Harry said after a while. "How's it working for you? She was up late a lot trying to get it right."

Ron briefly exchanged another look with Hermione before shrugging, forgetting that Harry couldn't see him. "It's working out great," he replied, honestly. "The reaction time took a bit to sync up, but I think it's okay now. I might even be able to try out for Quid—" He was cut off by Hermione's elbow in his side. "Sorry, Harry. I-I didn't mean—"

"Yeah, I know," Harry muttered, waving off the apology. "I hope you make it on the team. They'll need you for sure."

While Harry wasn't being short or temperamental by any means, it was clear that he didn't really want to talk with either Ron and Hermione and so the two started discussing Hermione's study of Braille and Ron's new arm.

Putting both legs up on his bench seat, Harry was only vaguely listening to the conversations as he thought back to when he'd finally gotten home from the hospital.

First, there was learning to navigate the house, memorizing locations of the rooms and everything within them.

Then came work with the occupational therapist to learn how to do his every day activities as well as the best ways to organize and sort his things to make them easier to find.

Braille was the trickiest part and even since he only had a passable grasp of it, Harry was grateful that he'd be working with Hermione, whose eidetic memory would surely be beneficial.

The only issue that hadn't been a problem, ironically, was Harry's prosthetic leg. It had taken only two fumbled tries of putting the prosthetic on and taking it off before Harry had the process down. Although, given that he'd been doing it since he was a young child, he should have figured it out by that point.

It hadn't all been positive, however. On his birthday, as he'd been feeling for his favorite pair of jeans, Harry felt the handle of his Firebolt broomstick, tucked in the far back corner.

The realization that he wouldn't be playing Quidditch the upcoming year hit him like a ton of bricks and Harry spent the rest of his birthday in his room, not talking to anyone and barely eating any of the dinner Sirius prepared.

He hated cutting himself off, but at the same time, Harry also had trouble hiding the raging jealousy he had over Ron and Hermione.

They were finding ways around their disabilities.

And, true, Harry could be doing the same but unless someone had invented a self-flying broomstick and he just wasn't aware of it, Quidditch was torn away from him… much like his eyes.

Hearing the compartment door slide open, Harry stiffened, wondering if the visitor was friend or foe.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk…" Draco Malfoy said in a fake sympathetic tone. "How horrible that all three of you should fall victim to such horrific attacks."

"Maybe you've forgotten, Malfoy," Hermione snapped, angrily as she stood and charged over to Draco Malfoy. "_I_ don't need my wand _or_ my books to kick your arse!"

Draco chuckled in amusement as he looked at the trio. "This is going to be rich. Especially, you, Potter. Heard you're blind as a bat these days."

Hermione was just about to launch a physical assault on the Slytherin student but she stopped when she heard Harry say, "Back off, Hermione."

Standing and holding his cane by his side, Harry stepped forward as Hermione backed away until she was behind him. Removing his shades—which also removed the glamour charm hiding the curse scars—Harry gave Malfoy a few seconds to take in his grotesque appearance before he said, quietly, "All this… for not siding with Voldemort. Better not cross him, Malfoy. Who knows what he'd do to his own _followers_ if they betray him."

Donning the shades again before turning and going back to his seat, Harry allowed himself the smallest smile when he heard Malfoy and his two cronies hurry off, shutting the door behind them.

x

Although Draco Malfoy knew plenty about the Dark Arts and what they could do, his mother had often been adamant that he never see the effects of dark magic up close and personal.

Still, Draco heard plenty of stories of the Cruciatus Curse and the Killing Curse from Lucius Malfoy's friends over the years—and even from Lucius himself. And he'd seen the effects of curses and potions when his mother was away for one thing or another.

Still… none of that had prepared Draco Malfoy for seeing Harry Potter's scarred face or the empty sockets where his eyes had been.

Malfoy silently berated himself for the uncontrolled gasp of horror he'd let out and as he, Crabbe, and Goyle returned to their own compartment, he also tried to pretend that what he'd seen hadn't bothered him in the slightest.

Thank Merlin his companions were to dimwitted to see him fail at that attempt.

xxxxxxxxxxxxx


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2

_Hogwarts Castle_

Sitting up at the Staff Table as the students began to pour in, Delores Umbridge—Senior Undersecretary to the Minister of Magic and new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor—watched her new charges with a critical eye.

This past summer, over two dozen students had been attacked by supposed Death Eaters and while the use of dark magic lent credibility to the accusation, no one had claimed direct responsibility.

However, while the attackers' identities and motivations were in doubt, there was no denying that the students in question had been the victims of dark magic which had left them scarred in one way or another.

At the Gryffindor table, Umbridge caught sight of Harry Potter who was wearing a pair of wraparound sunglasses. Turning to Albus Dumbledore, Umbridge asked, "Is it acceptable, Headmaster, for students to wear sunglasses inside?"

Dumbledore followed Umbridge's line of sight and shrugged as he took in Harry's apprearance. "Given that Mr. Potter's eyes were removed," he replied, calmly. "—I would expect that the glasses are to keep his classmates from staring."

"It could also be," Severus Snape added, quietly, from Umbridge's other side. "—that the curse used on Potter left considerable magical scarring. Something which he might wish to keep hidden."

Straightening up with a haughty sniff, Umbridge spoke sternly to both Dumbledore and Snape, "Be that as it may, I will _not_ tolerate any student wearing sunglasses in my classroom. Now… regarding special accommodations for students this year, Headmaster, please get me a list of all students who have been victims of these 'attacks' and their corresponding injuries so that I can prepare for them."

x

At the Gryffindor Table, Hermione was only partly interested in her dinner as she looked about the Great Hall.

As the new students had lined up for the Sorting Hat ceremony, Hermione had studied them intently, especially when she'd started taking note of all the students who had clearly been the victims of various assaults.

Three of the 1st year students had been attacked, one of whom had a patch over one eye and a fair amount of make-up covering the curse scars on her cheek. Another was missing his left hand, and the third was missing her nose.

Cho Chang from Ravenclaw had a prosthetic right arm and one of her classmates had a mess of scarring across his throat.

Violet Nichols from Hufflepuff was missing her left leg.

And they were just a few of the injuries Hermione observed.

In total, she counted 27 students who bore scars or missing limbs. The idea that so many of her classmates had been victims of similar attacks as herself was horrifying.

"SO WHAT HAPPENED TO YOU, HERMIONE?"

Hermione jumped at Seamus Finnigan shouted at her, suddenly. But when she started to admonish him for being so loud, she saw that he now had two jagged scars where his ears had been. Pulling out a small notepad and one of her new self-writing quills, she dictated a note before passing it to Seamus.

'_I can't read anymore. And I can't write.'_

"YOU MUST BE BLOODY PISSED ABOUT THAT," Seamus shouted back. "ME MUM'S GOT ME LEARNING SIGN LANGUAGE SINCE I CAN'T HEAR ANYMORE."

Trying not to smile, Hermione dictated another note and handed it over.

'_The rest of us will need to learn BSL as well if you don't stop shouting. Just try to talk normally.'_

"Oh," Seamus replied, a touch quieter this time. "I thought I was talking normal."

Hermione shook her head but have him a warm smile. "It's okay," she said, hoping he could read her lips.

x

Sitting across from Harry Potter, Colin Creevy felt nervous as he studied his idol. Just after getting home from Hogwarts this past summer, Colin had been walking to the library in town when someone had blasted off his leg. After a three week stay in the hospital for observation and physical therapy, Colin had been allowed to go home but even with extensive PT, he was still having trouble working with the new prosthetic leg. "H-Harry?" Colin asked, tentatively. "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure," Harry replied, feeling for the plate of roast chicken pieces and grabbing a thigh. "What can I help you with, Colin?"

"I… Well, you see, I was… I mean, I lost…" Colin stammered for a good minute before finally describing his own attack and the problems he was having. "I-I just thought, you know, since you've been missing your leg your whole life…"

Harry nodded, thoughtfully. "Yeah, I'll help you, Colin. No problem."

x

After the feast was over, Harry carefully stood and unfolded his cane, waiting until the majority of the students had left before heading towards the doors. "Oi, Harry! Wait up!"

Pausing as he heard a familiar voice calling his name, Harry waited until he felt a hand on his shoulder before greeting Katie Bell. "How are you doing, Katie?" Harry asked as the two headed up to Gryffindor Tower together.

"Awful," Katie admitted after a while. "You know all those attacks that have been going on?"

Harry nodded, reaching up a hand to touch his shades. "Yeah. That's what happened to me."

"Oh, Heavens! I'm so sorry!" Katie exclaimed, feeling stupid for not realizing.

"You, too?" Harry asked, trying to get his fellow Quidditch player back on target.

Katie stopped and when Harry stopped as well, looking puzzled, she let him feel both her hands, and specifically, the absence of both her thumbs. "It may not seem like a big deal but everything is… fifty times harder now. Writing, picking things up, even getting dressed is no picnic."

"Are you still playing Quidditch?" Harry wanted to know.

Katie shook her head, forgetting for a moment that Harry couldn't see her. "No, I'm not playing this term. I tried doing some practice moves before term started but I just kept fumbling the quaffle. And I couldn't get a good grip on the bats to save my life."

"You could play seeker… or keeper," Harry offered. "I just don't think Gryffindor should lose everyone on the team, especially since I've had to quit."

Reaching the 7th floor, Katie guided Harry to the portrait hole and gave him a kiss on the cheek. "You're right. I'm going to talk Angelina in the morning. Thank you, Harry, for talking me out of quitting."

Once inside the Common Room, Harry headed for the boys' dormitory and headed upstairs to his bed, folding his cane and setting it on the nightstand before making sure the alarm was set on his watch for the next day.

"So… how bad is it?" Ron Weasley asked, quietly as he approached his best friend. When Harry looked puzzled, he clarified. "Your eyes. I mean… you should have seen everyone in the Great Hall, mate. You're not alone, you know?"

Harry pulled off his school uniform and changed into pajama bottoms and a t-shirt, still keeping his shades on. "You saw Malfoy's face when we were on the train, right?"

"Yeah, I saw him," Ron muttered, thinking of the look of fear and disgust on the Slytherin student's face. Even Crabbe and Goyle looked horrified.

"I don't want others to see me," Harry explained. "In the hospital this summer… even my godparents were appalled. Sirius described the scars and everything as best he could. Trust me… _no one_ wants to see it."

Ron wanted to point out that his shoulder where his arm had been removed was no pretty sight either, but he refrained. Going to his own bed, Ron got undressed and carefully undid the straps across his chest and shoulder holding his prosthetic in place. Setting the contraption down on top of his trunk, he got his own pajamas on ad crawled under the covers, watching as Harry finally put his sunglasses aside as soon as he heard everyone else get into bed.

* * *

Since the following day was Sunday and classes wouldn't start until the day after, Delores Umbridge stayed up late that night looking over the list of injured students Dumbledore had given her. Although not all of the students listed would need assistance, there were over a dozen that would.

Five students were deaf and would need written copies of the lecture material since they couldn't hear. Reading the notes Dumbledore had included, Umbridge noted that one girl—Juliet Hanlin—had been deaf since she was 6 and used magically enhanced hearing aids. Making herself a note to speak with the Heads of House for those five, Umbridge decided that they should be allowed to form their own study group to ensure that they did not fall behind.

Hermione Granger was another issue. Although the girl's academic records showed that she was the best student in her class, a severe head injury this past summer had damaged her ability to process written text. Dumbledore had noted that Miss Granger was learning Braille as a method of compensation, but she would still need to use a self-writing quill.

Four students were missing a single eyeball which might be an annoyance but would not keep them from reading the lecture board or writing out their homework or essays.

Unlike Harry Potter who'd had _both_ eyes removed.

The very thought made Umbridge cringe. As stern and unsympathetic as she'd been earlier tonight at dinner, seeing all the boys and girl in the Great Hall with various missing body parts was… Well, it was sickening, truth be told.

And it reminded her of being a young girl and seeing her father in St. Mungo's Hospital with his face horrifically scarred and his full right arm and left foot missing after doing battle with a band of dark wizards who had tortured him for some unknown reason.

Focusing on the task at hand, Umbridge began work on making copies of her lectures and study outlines in both Braille and English while looking at the final group of students needing assistance. Seven people were missing their whole writing hand at least. Three of them had lost all or most of the arm in question. And while some of them had prosthetics, they weren't the type to allow for normal functions, such as writing.

And while Katie Bell was only missing her thumb, it would still hinder legible writing.

After her copies were complete and her personal notes about study groups and the number of people needing self-writing quills were in her roll call books for each class, Umbridge carefully organized her things and headed into her personal chambers for the night.

* * *

_Lodge Pole, Montana_

_United States_

Going down the basement—which Lex always called her 'lab'—Sirius found his wife slumped over her work table, over 50 different prosthetic designs scattered around her. Gently touching Lex's shoulder, Sirius jumped back, startled as Lex suddenly jerked upright, shouting, "The lobsters can Riverdance!"

"Honey?" Sirius said, cautiously, as he watched his wife organize her papers. "Are you alright?"

"I've been getting a maximum of 3 hours of sleep a night," Lex muttered, rubbing her face, wearily. "—trying to keep up with the demand for prosthetics and braces. Dumbledore got me the files for all of Harry's classmates who have been attacked—who needs what—and I need to get this ready to go so these kids can start getting their lives back to normal."

Giving Lex a poignant look, Sirius paused for a moment before he finally asked, "Do you think you're working too hard on this because of Harry?"

"You mean trying to fix Harry's classmates because I can actually _do_ something to help?" Lex snapped, irritably. "Of course I am. My godson is completely blind and he's going to stay that way. I can't help him see again, so the _very least_ I can do is give some of these other kids their lives back." Handing Sirius the pictures of all the Hogwarts students in question, Lex took a deep breath to try and calm herself.

"Three kids had their hearing damaged—we're trying to see if they'd be candidates for cochlear implant surgery—and one teenager had his ears _removed_. Another three students had their vocal cords completely removed so I'm also trying to see if there's a way to come up with a magically powered artificial voice box for them."

Sirius pulled another chair over and sat down so he was eye to eye with his wife. "There's a whole department at the Xavier Magical Medical Center that does the exact same things you do." When Lex started to argue, Sirius pressed on. "Alexis, honey… You _do not_ have to do this all on your own. Let everyone else help you. Who knows? Maybe someone will come up with an idea you never thought of."

Lex nodded slowly, sniffling as she did so while tears fell down her cheeks. "I just feel helpless, you know… with Harry?"

"I know," Sirius assured her, pulling her into a hug. "I've been trying to figure out what kind of curse is being used on all these people and all I can come up with is that it's a dark magic variation of a vanishing spell."

Resting her head on Sirius's shoulder, Lex couldn't contain a loud yawn.

Sirius chuckled softly a swiftly picked his wife up in his arms and carried her upstairs to their bedroom, laying her down on the bed before removing her shoes and socks and transfiguring her regular clothes into pajamas. "Now," he said, getting undressed as well and getting into bed next to Lex. "Tomorrow morning, I am going to take all your work over to the hospital and when I come back, you and I are going to take a day off. We've both been going crazy with this whole thing and we need to take some time to refresh ourselves."

"And just what do you suggest we do?" Lex asked, a dirty smirk crossing her face.

Sirius grinned as well as Lex rolled on top of him. "Dunno… thoughts?"

"A few," Lex replied, kissing her husband before starting to pull his boxers off.

* * *

_Hogwarts Castle_

_Scotland_

When Harry got to the Gryffindor Table in the Great Hall the next morning, he waited until he heard Ron and Hermione's voices calling him before he sat down opposite them. "What are the two of you up to today?" Harry asked, helping himself to scrambled eggs, sausage, scones, and fruit.

Hermione and Ron exchanged a look and Ron cautiously suggested, "We were hoping you'd be up to walking around the grounds… and maybe talking?"

"Yeah, sure," Harry shrugged, halfheartedly. In truth, he'd been hoping to work on getting his bearings around the castle but figured that could wait until after lunch. While he listened to Hermione talk about a study schedule for the pair of them—since they were both currently reliant on Braille—and Ron talk about possibly trying out for Quidditch as keeper, Harry again felt cut off. And true, the extra study would be helpful, but just hearing about Quidditch was making Harry more and more depressed.

"Harry, did you want to go for a walk with me when you're done eating?" Katie Bell asked, interrupting Harry's thoughts.

Without thinking, Harry finished the last few bites of his breakfast and nodded, standing up and unfolding his cane. "Yeah. Sounds great," he replied, in an almost cheerful tone.

Dumbfounded, Hermione and Ron stared at Harry as he took Katie's arm and left the Great Hall, heading for the main doors. "You know, I… I seem to remember asking Harry to join _us_ for a walk and he all but blew us off. You remember that?" Ron asked, pointing at where their best friend had gone.

Hermione nodded, frowning slightly. "I never figured Harry had a thing for Katie. Maybe he fancies her or something."

"Yeah, I guess so," Ron admitted, grateful that Harry was acting interested in something. "I know Harry's in a funk since he can't see, but I thought this would be a good chance to talk to him about it."

"Well, it's not just that he's blind, Ron," Hermione argued. "He lost both his eyes and he can't even use prosthetics. Unlike you."

Ron stiffened at that and held up his artificial arm. "Hermione, if I could, I'd trade places with Harry in an instant. And trust me—getting this thing on is no picnic. Neville had to help me this morning."

"Speaking of help," Hermione said, hating to ask. "Since I can't read, I was wondering if you'd be willing to read over my assignments—you know, homework, essays, and the like."

His eyes widened in surprise at the request and Ron tried not to laugh at the irony of Hermione asking _him_ to help with homework. "Er… Yeah, sure. Of course."

"I mean, I still know things," Hermione explained. "I just can't… put them down on paper." Her frustration and rage at her condition again hit a boiling point and before she knew what she was doing, she'd grabbed one of the knives nearby and drove it into the wooden table with a very loud 'THUNK'.

Ron flicked his gaze from the knife to Hermione's face several times before he finally asked, "So… still fancy that walk?"

x

After a brief walk around the grounds, Katie and Harry returned to the castle, and carefully started walking each floor, with Katie pausing periodically to let Harry get his bearings and map out the layout in his mind.

"The staircases are what I'm worried about," Harry admitted after he'd lost his balance on one as it moved suddenly.

Helping Harry to his feet and handing him his cane back, Katie wondered aloud if it might be possible to ask Professor Dumbledore to put some sort of charm on the staircases so that Harry could go directly to where he needed to without having to worry about unexpected changes.

"I'll try and talk to him about it after dinner tonight," Harry promised as he and Katie reached the library. Taking a break from their walk and finding a secluded table, Harry waited until they were both sitting down before asking, "So… how many of us are there?"

Katie didn't even need to ask what Harry was talking about and she thought back to the previous night. "Nearly thirty, I'd say. I saw missing hands and arms, legs… some people were missing an eye… Seamus Finnigan lost both his ears. And that poor first year girl was missing her nose. It's horrible."

Harry rubbed the corner of his right eye—trying not to react as he felt the scarring around the socket. "Horrible doesn't begin to cover it," he said, darkly.

"I don't suppose you'd show me what happened to you?" Katie asked, fairly certain that Harry would refuse.

"I know I'm not alone in being a victim of these attacks," Harry replied, shaking his head. "But… If the scars and the empty eye sockets are as bad as they feel…" After a few moments, he added, "When I was attacked, I was out for a run. This spell hit me in the face and… it felp like my eyes were being ripped out of my face. A bunch of muggles saw me on the street, the nurses and doctors at the hospital… The horrified gasps were… Well, let's just say that no one has seen me and _not_ been repulsed. Even my godparents. Even though I can't see, I know when they're looking at me because I hear this… this tone. They don't even want to look at me without the shades. My own family…"

Katie sat back in her chair, trying to think of something to say to Harry's confession. Her own family had been aghast at seeing the scars on her hands where her thumbs had been but she couldn't imagine her parents not even being able to look at her. "Harry, if you don't want to show me, it's alright. I understand. But I promise—whatever you look like, I'll stand by you. I'm not going to go anywhere."

Wiping away tears, Harry blinked a few times and took a deep breath before slowly raising a hand to remove his shades.

xxxxxxxxxx

When Harry and Katie turned up for dinner, Ron and Hermione exchanged surprised looks when they saw that the pair were arm in arm and holding hands. "Where have you two been all day?" Hermione asked, her curiousity overriding her annoyance at Harry's disappearing act that morning.

"Just walking the castle," Harry replied, helping himself to chicken, mashed potatoes, vegetables and a couple rolls. "We also did a fair amount of talking." When he didn't hear Hermione respond, he sighed and added, "I'm sorry. I know I'm being—"

"Self-absorbed?" Hermione offered, unable to keep the snap out of her voice.

"Exactly," Harry replied, nodding. "Look, I… I don't want to talk about it right now, but… I guess I've just been afraid that if you see what happened to me, that you'll… You wouldn't want to be around me anymore."

"Well, do you not want to be _my _friend since I lost my arm?" Ron asked, trying not to sound irritable.

"Ron, I don't care what you're missing," Harry said, defensively. "You're my best friend! That's not going to change just because you're missing your arm. Just like Hermione's always going to be my friend regardless of whether she can read or not." After a moment, he went on. "But it's not just about me being blind. The scarring around my eyes… It's bad. _Really_ bad. And I'm just not ready to have everyone avoiding me because I look even worse that the Phantom of the Opera."

"The who of the what?" Ron asked, looking to Hermione for an explanation.

"A man with a disfigured face haunts—or, stalks, more like—an old opera house," Hermione replied, giving the bare bones synopsis. "I'll tell you more about it later."

It wasn't often that Ron heard genuine fear in his best friend's voice, but he could hear it clearly as Harry talked about how people might react to the curse scarring on his face. "Alright," Ron said, nodding in understanding. "You're not ready to show us. But Hermione and I aren't going anywhere, mate. And believe me, you're not alone in the 'looking gruesome' category."

x

Once he'd finished eating, Harry excused himself from the table and after promising to talk with Hermione and Ron in the Gryffindor common room later on, he went up to the staff table, hoping Dumbledore wouldn't mind talking with him. "Professor Dumbledore? Uh… May I have a word with you? In private?"

"Of course, Harry," Dumbledore replied, after one more swig of his wine. Let's go up to my office, shall we?"

Taking the headmaster's elbow a moment later, Harry was surprised when Dumbledore let him set the pace they walked at, and only offered directions once or twice when Harry had clearly gotten turned around.

In Dumbledore's office, Harry made his way over to the headmaster's desk and sat down, waiting until he heard the headmaster himself sit down. "I was wondering, sir, if it would be possible for you to put some sort of charm on the staircases to keep them from moving if I—or one of the other students who have been attacked—are on them? Because when you're trying to learn how to walk when you're missing a foot or a leg—or with a prosthetic—having the stairs move unexpectedly can be really dangerous."

"Of course," Dumbledore agreed at once. "And I apologize for not doing that prior to the start of term." When Harry showed no signs of getting up to leave, he raised an eyebrow and gently pressed, "Is there something else you wanted to speak with me about?"

"There is," Harry said, not sure if he was making the right choice, especially since it might eventually put him on the spot with everyone else. "I was wondering if you'd allow us—myself and the other students who were attacked—to form a… a support group. And if you'd happen to know somewhere we could meet? You know… sit and talk about what's happened to us?"

Leaning back in his chair, Dumbledore studied the young man sitting before him. He knew that Harry was trying to deal with what happened to him and the best way he could do that was helping others. "I think that that would be an excellent idea, Harry. There is a room on the 6th floor called the Room of Requirement. I would be happy to provide you with its exact location and instructions for how to enter."

"Thank you, sir," Harry replied, nodding before standing up. "I appreciate you talking the time to talk with me."

Before Harry could turn to leave, Dumbledore stopped him, his voice sincere as he spoke. "Harry, I know you don't wish to make yourself the center of attention. But I believe that if you share your scars with others, you may just help them find the courage within to start finding ways to deal with their own injuries."

Harry slowly sat down again, thinking that this was the first time he could think of that he had knowledge that none of his other classmates did. "My first year, I wasn't sure of how to deal with the fact that I was the only student missing a limb. I expected questions, teasing… coddling from the other students or my teachers. Now it's practically a non-issue. No one talked to me about it… until now."

"Harry, neither the loss of your leg or your eyes changes who you are," Dumbledore advised. "You wish to do good for others, even when you, yourself, are suffering. You're intelligent, resourceful, and determined. Your fellow classmates need you to help them—to remind them that they can overcome the obstacles places before them. And that the loss of a body part does not equal the loss of intellect or skill."

"I understand, sir," Harry replied, standing up again.

"Next weekend, I will give you the information on the Room of Requirement," Dumbledore promised, walking around his desk and placing a grandfatherly hand on Harry's shoulder. "I'll leave it to you to decide on meeting times." As Harry made his way to the door, the headmaster stopped him. "Did you need an escort to Gryffindor Tower?"

Harry hesitated for only a moment before shaking his head. "I'll be alright, sir, thank you. Good night, Professor."

"Good night, Harry," Dumbledore replied, watching Harry leave the room.

xxxxxxx

By the time Harry entered Gryffindor Tower, everyone except Ron and Hermione had gone up to the dormitories.

Once Harry was sitting in one of the armchairs by the fire, He said, simply, "Neither of you knows what it's like to be singled out… not—not like this. I'm the only one who's ever survived a Killing Curse. But that scar is nothing compared to what happened to me this summer. You two have seen what's happened to the others. Katie Bell described the scars they have to me. The spell used to take my eyes was dark magic even Sirius couldn't identify. Which says to me that someone singled me out again. I'm not ready for you two to see me. Not… not yet, anyway."

Hermione started to open her mouth to argue but catching Ron's look, she stifled her remarks. "Fair enough," she begrudgingly agreed.

"I know it will come out eventually," Harry conceded. "But for now, just let me keep this under wraps. Please?"

"Of course," Ron replied. When the clock chimed the hour, he stood and said, "We better get some sleep." When Hermione was out of earshot, Ron stopped Harry and gave him a grin. "So… you and Katie? You're a thing now, then?"

Although Harry didn't respond out loud, the furious blush of his face was answer enough.

* * *

Walking into the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom the following day was vastly different then all the previous years before, Hermione noticed. It seemed… ordinary. Boring, even.

There were lecture boards at the front of the room near Professor Umbridge's desk and Hermione quelled her frustration at the fact that she still couldn't make any sense of the writing on them. Taking her seat next to Harry, she pulled out her self-writing quill and noticed that no one had pulled out their wands.

"No one has their wands out," Hermione murmured quietly in Harry's ear. "That's odd."

"You won't be needing your wands at this juncture, Miss Granger," Umbridge said, simply as she charmed a stack of textbooks to pass themselves out. "I believe that book-learning will adequately prepare you all for your exams."

"What about the practical portion of our OWL exams?" Hermione protested.

"If you have studied the material," Umbridge went on. "—then you should have no problems with the spellwork later on."

Harry scoffed at that and gestured to Hermione and himself. "Well, in case you missed the memo," he said with a snarky tone. "—I can't see and Hermione can't read."

Although Umbridge's first instinct was to chastise Harry for his behavior, she instead turned and retrieved the binders she'd prepared containing Braille copies of her lectures as well as chapters of the textbook. "Which is why I have prepared your study materials for you, Mr. Potter." Once Harry and Hermione had the binders in front of them, Umbridge looked at Harry directly and said sternly, "Also, I will _not_ allow you to wear those sunglasses in my classroom. Remove them at once, please."

Harry stiffened and shook his head. "I'm sorry, Professor, but no."

Umbridge straightened up and quietly withdrew her wand. "Mr. Potter, I will give you one last chance to remove the sunglasses yourself. Otherwise, I shall do it myself and you can collect them after class. Do I make myself clear?"

"Harry, just do what she says," Hermione whispered, putting a hand on Harry's forearm.

After a moment, Harry raised his head as though attempting to look Umbridge in the face and pushed his chair back, standing up as he did so.

"Mr. Potter, I did not give you permission to leave my classroom," Umbridge snapped, austerely.

But instead of leaving the room, Harry took his shades off, slamming them down on the table and turning in Umbridge's general direction, letting her get a clear view of his face.

The rest of the students looked curiously at Harry Potter and when they saw the look on Delores Umbridge's face, they began whispering amoungst themselves.

Until Harry turned around.

Hermione and Ron had been wondering why Harry had been trying so hard to hide what had happened to him and as they looked at their best friend's face, they now understood why.

Across Harry's cheeks, the red, jagged scars resembled skeletal hands reaching up towards the empty sockets where his eyes had been. The skin around the edges of the sockets was ragged as well, as though nails had dug in as someone or some_thing_ had removed Harry's eyes with their fingers.

"Happy now?" Harry said as he sat down once again, his glasses sitting on the corner of the desk.

It took several minutes for Umbridge to find her voice and when she did, she had a hard time keeping her tone calm and collected. "Please see me after class, Mr. Potter." Finally tearing her gaze away from Harry's face for a moment, she forced herself to begin discussion of the year's curriculum.

xxx

When the class had concluded and the rest of the students had filed out, whispering and looking back at Harry as they did so, Umbridge closed the door and walked back to Harry's desk, looking down at the young man. "I was 10 years old when my father was attacked by dark wizards. I remember visiting him in hospital afterward and seeing the curse scars on his face. They were the same as your scars."

Harry was silent for a while but after another minute, he said, "You have no idea what it's like to have people constantly whispering about you. Talking behind your back about a stupid little scar…" Pulling his bangs back to expose the lightning scar on his forehead, he went on. "This thing is a _scratch_." Pointing to the rest of his face, he added, "This? There are no words for what this is."

"I've been unfair to you, Mr. Potter," Umbridge apologized, sincerely. "I knew what had happened to your other classmates and I presumed that your scars would be the same as theirs."

"Well, you were wrong on that one, weren't you, Professor?" Harry snapped, angrily.

But Harry's attitude didn't ruffle Umbridge as it had earlier. Instead, she took a deep breath and said, "I don't know much about the curses used on yourself and the others. But my father was quite knowledgeable about the dark arts and some of its most awful curses. Whatever help I can offer is yours."

Harry nodded that he understood and after collecting his things, he put his sunglasses back on, unfolded his cane, and left the classroom without another word.


End file.
